A/N: Woooo! Oh meh gosh the last chapter got the most reviews thus far! THANK YOU!

Now...I posted some links to videos on my profile. These are live hardcore shows so you can get a taste for the kind of music OCS performs, as well as a better idea of what being at a hardcore show is like. You can see some of the dancing and the frenzied crowds. The Champion video also has a good little mini-explanation about the straight edge philosophy. I hope you'll go check these out and let me know what you think.

Also! Check out the O/S called "Begin Again" I posted for the Loved for the Unloved contest.

I'm on Twitter now. Come follow me to keep up to date on AWNP, DoG, and any other contest/collaborations I'm involved in! Link on my profile. :)

Song is "I Will Be Heard" by Hatebreed and ON to the chapter!

Psst... Thanks Adrena;)

CPOV

The car was silent as a tomb as Esme drove us back to my house. I sat slumped in the passenger seat of my car, completely deflated and feeling sick to my stomach. My head was buried in my hands and the air inside the car felt hot and stuffy, suffocating me slowly. Esme navigated the streets with quiet competency while I suffered through my breakdown.

My own son hated me.

Finally, we arrived at the dark, empty void my house had become. Esme walked around to my door and opened it, reaching in to help me out. I stood hunched over like an old man and she took my elbow in her hand while I shuffled to the front door. Almost every ounce of my awareness was turned inward while she unlocked the front door and flipped on some lights. "Can I get you anything?" she asked quietly.

I shook my head in a daze. She led me to the kitchen table and I collapsed in the chair closest to me. I stared vacantly at the wall, lost in my horrible thoughts while she walked over to the sink and ran the water into a glass. She came back and set it on the table next to me, but I didn't touch it or even acknowledge it.

She sighed and sat down next to me. I felt her warm, soft hand press against the back of my cold, hard one. "Carlisle, you need to talk about this. We need to talk about this," she urged.

The focus that had been so intensely turned inward suddenly snapped like a vicious rubber band and my eyes met hers. "What is there to talk about?" I asked coldly.

She squeezed my hand and looked at me sadly. I didn't want her fucking pity. "You can always go to counseling. I'm sure Edward..."

I snatched my hand out from her grip and stood so quickly that the chair fell backwards. "What fucking right do you have to tell me what I should do?" I seethed.

Esme's expression was a mix of shock and hurt. I wanted to reach out for her, but I was just too focused on the reality of my crumbling relationship with my son. "I've done everything I could to make sure Edward has a good life. I work my ass off at the hospital, I make connections and encourage him to do the things that will help him succeed in his future. Look at him just turning his back on me like it doesn't mean a damn thing."

Esme sat silently now, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes downcast. Her posture told me nothing about what she was thinking right now. "You think I'm wrong?" I asked harshly.

She looked up at me and regarded me for a moment before she spoke. "Does it matter what I think?" she asked. There was a hint of hurt mixed with indignation in her voice.

I scrubbed my hand down my face and pulled at my carefully combed hair in frustration. "Yes. No. I don't know!" I growled.

She stood up now, her petite frame seeming to tower over me in her anger. "You asked me to marry you, but how can you expect me to even consider spending the rest of my life with you when you can't even talk to your own son?" she demanded.

I stepped back and felt the anger swell once more. "These are two separate issues," I said.

She shook her head and let a mirthless chuckle loose. I'd never seen her like this. Her fierce eyes met mine and her look sliced me to ribbons. "You're sitting here blaming Edward, when he's the one who has every right to blame you. Do you even know who he is when he's not trying to be what you want him to be?"

My eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched. I didn't like getting lectured about my own son. She saw my look and the passion in her eyes died and drifted away, to be replaced by a storm cloud of disappointment. "I don't need to be told how to raise my own son by someone who doesn't even have children," I sneered angrily.

Esme took a step back and gasped, looking as if I'd just punched her in the stomach. I knew this was a low blow, because she hadn't been able to conceive with her husband, but I hated to be told how to take care of my child. I didn't know who was more shocked by my words, myself or her. I stood and stared at her, wondering if this was it.

Finally, her mouth snapped shut and her shoulders tensed. "How can you say those things to me?" she asked, sounding so hurt that it made me bleed inside.

I pressed my lips together and hung my head, feeling unworthy to be in her presence. In my own inability to fix things with Edward, I had destroyed the two most important relationships in my life. "I'm sorry," I said quietly, flinching at the disgusting inadequacy of the feeble words.

She let a cruel laugh trickle from her tight lips. Her arms crossed and she stepped close to me; I had to shut my eyes against the tidal wave of need that crashed over me. I wanted so much to pull her closer, to wrap myself in her comforting scent and let her tell me what to do to fix my incredibly fucked up life.

That wouldn't happen, though. She'd never allow me to touch her now.

"You know what, Carlisle? If this is how you treat the people you love, then I don't want it. I'm not going stand by and watch you do everything you can to push your son away."

Her words cut me to the quick and I felt the nausea welling up, the stomach acid burning against the back of my throat. I raised a hand to cover my eyes so she wouldn't see the tears threatening there. "I won't lose him. I can't. Don't you see? That's why I've done everything I have, so that I wouldn't lose him," I pleaded, sounding so weak and defeated and I hated myself for it.

She was walking away from me now, and I couldn't stop her I watched her go, helpless against the reality I'd created through my actions. When she reached the door, she paused with her hand on the knob but didn't turn around to look at me. The words that floated back to me were like a sea of sadness spreading out between us, filling the void with water threatening to pull me under.

"You've already lost him, Carlisle, and now you've lost me too. Goodbye."

And with that, she was gone.

EPOV

I tossed and turned restlessly in the small guest room at Emmett and Rosalie's house. I had a pounding headache. The room was still dark, so I knew it was still before sunrise. I heard footsteps outside my bedroom door and recognized them as Rosalie's, so I threw back the covers and found some pants and a shirt to put on before walking out to the kitchen.

I found her sitting at the counter sipping a cup of hot chocolate and reading the newspaper. She looked up, surprised. "Edward, what are you doing awake?"

I shrugged and pulled a glass from the cupboard to get some water. Once that was done, I took a few sips as I leaned against the counter. I didn't know what to say, and apparently neither did she. We existed in an uncomfortable silence for at least five minutes before she broke it to ask, "Emmett will be up soon to get ready for work. I was going to make him some waffles if you're interested."

Rosalie and Emmett had only been married for about six months, but they'd been together for over five years. The first time I met Emmett was when Rosalie dragged him to church with her one Sunday when I was seventeen. He was a lot rougher around the edges and a sight to behold with his black mohawk and lip ring. Nobody knew quite what to make of the twenty-year-old punk kid with big muscles and a safety pin in his earlobe.

Granted, Rosalie had cleaned him up for the occasion, putting him in one of her father's old suits that didn't fit very well, but he still stuck out like a sore thumb among the congregation. I hung back and watched them interact with some of the more conservative members of our church, wondering how he would do with all the curious rubberneckers dying to meet him.

Amazingly, Emmett was charming and friendly to everyone he met. I didn't know Rosalie or her family very well because they weren't as active in the church as some of the other families, but I did know that they were a very warm and accepting bunch, so it didn't really surprise me to see her parents supporting their daughter's new boyfriend with welcoming smiles and high praise. Back then, that was enough for my father to approve of them, but I knew that his opinion had changed since my mother's death. Nowadays, to be a "good Christian," one had to go to church every Sunday, be involved, and be just as strict as he was in his own daily life.

I didn't agree with him, but I never questioned his dislike because I didn't want to rock the boat. Personally, I believed more than ever that people like Rosalie and her family, along with Emmett, were the ideal Christians. They were never judgmental and they certainly never put on the holier-than-thou attitude that my own father seemed to have perfected over the past few years. They may not have perfect attendance at church, or take part in the various organizations and clubs that my father was considered so important, but they were quietly committed to the path. That was more than enough for me.

Aside from my father, it was incredible to see Emmett win over the entire congregation, even with his decidedly "alternative" appearance.

By the time the service was over and everyone had met him, I was completely fascinated with him. I'd been so sheltered my whole life, believing that people who looked like Emmett couldn't be good Christians. I was willing to bet he had tattoos, and probably more piercings. I wondered if he went to concerts that my parents would probably ground me for attending.

I was drawn to him. He was so different and new in a good way, and I needed to meet him. I decided to slip away from my parents while they spoke with Pastor Smith and made my way over to the small group still surrounding Rosalie and Emmett. When I reached them, I cleared my throat nervously and reached out to introduce myself. Seeing me, Emmett gave me a huge smile and shook my hand enthusiastically.

The rest, as they say, was history. Our first conversation was hilariously awkward, on my end anyway, but he kept coming back on Sundays and eventually, we became friends. My mom never seemed to mind, but my father would occasionally make some subtle remark that indicated some level of discomfort with my new friend. I called him out on it one time, but all he did was insinuate that he didn't think Rosalie's parents should have allowed her to date someone so "delinquent."

When I asked him what he meant by that, he said that her parents were too lax with her and that they should have kept her away from guys like Emmett. He didn't seem to care that Emmett may have looked delinquent, but he probably lived a cleaner and straighter lifestyle than even Carlisle himself.

Unfortunately, the straight edge philosophy was completely lost on my father, but it was something that had cemented my aversion to drugs and alcohol.

Still, our mutual love for music was a big thing for me, and Emmett introduced me to the entirely new world of punk and hardcore. Up until I'd met him, I was only well-versed in classic rock and the classical music my family listened to whenever the occasion called for it.

When Jasper's family moved to town about ten months after Emmett started attending our church, we pulled him into our friendship and the three of us decided to start a band. Jasper was a wicked bass player in a vegan hardcore band back in Texas, and Emmett had been a drummer for a few punk bands before he met Rose.

As for me, well...all I'd ever done was sing in the choir. It was a far cry from the kind of music I'd begun to know and love under Emmett's tutelage, but I was determined to make a piece of that world my own. After a few months of practicing and playing around with songs, OCS was born and we'd been together ever since.

Through it all, Rose and Emmett fell blissfully in love and I'd come to know her a lot better than I used to.

So it was no surprise that they should offer me their guest room after I'd decided not to return home to my father's house. I'd been crashing here for almost a week now, and they treated me like their own kin. Rosalie, being Rosalie, was warm and inviting, and she'd yet to say a word about the shit storm my life was quickly becoming. I appreciated her sensitivity to my mood, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before I had to break down and explain the entire situation to my friends.

While I helped Rosalie prepare the early morning breakfast, I heard Emmett's alarm go off. The sounds of him getting ready for the day at the shop comforted me in a strange way, the same way I'd always wake up when I was a kid to the sound of my father showering or his scrubs spinning around in the dryer. Those homey sounds would never fail to make me feel like I was in my own safe cocoon, warm and loved.

I shook myself from my reverie and looked over at Rose. She was still in her hospital scrubs and she looked tired. "Long day at the hospital?" I asked conversationally. I knew she was a nurse in labor and delivery, so I very much doubted she'd have run into my father who worked over in the surgical wing. Still, I was tense at the knowledge that they worked in the same hospital.

She sighed and poured the batter into the waffle iron before answering. "Not really, just the usual. We delivered eight babies in the wing, but I only assisted on three. I'm glad to be home, though, even if Emmett has to work today."

Rose and Emmett worked opposite shifts most of the week. Her job required her to work graveyard, while Emmett usually worked early in the morning until early afternoon. They'd get time together when he got home, but Rose usually had to sleep or go to work not long after.

As an unfortunate side effect of her schedule, she'd been forced to miss a lot of our shows. It bothered both of them, but we never really brought it up because it was a sore subject for Rosalie. She loved Emmett so much and it was obvious that she wished she could be at every one of his shows to support him.

"Well, Saturdays are usually short at the shop, right? So he won't be gone too long," I said, trying to comfort her a bit.

She nodded and smiled softly. "Yeah. It'll be a good day, I hope."

We didn't speak much more after that, and soon breakfast was ready and waiting for Emmett. He walked out of their bedroom, freshly showered and wearing his gray coveralls unzipped over a black Hatebreed t-shirt and dark blue Dickies. He pressed a kiss against Rosalie's forehead and thanked her for the food before sitting down to dig in.

Running on so little sleep was uncommon for me, so after I ate, I went and tried to lie down again for a couple hours. I was nervous about seeing Bella today, and I didn't quite know what I would say to her when I did.

I mean, should I tell her how messed up my life had become in the week since the D.C. trip, or should I just ignore all the drama and focus on the fact that we'd more or less jumped each other in the alley behind the club? The kiss was burned into my memory, bringing all the conflicting emotions with it. I honestly didn't know where to go from here, because while I knew I was attracted to Bella, I also knew that neither of us was in a good place to start anything even resembling a relationship.

Besides, did I even want a relationship with Bella? I knew she was beautiful, and smart, and fun to be around when she wasn't trying to rip me a new one, but still...there were so many other factors that needed to be taken into consideration. Alice's words floated through my mind, reminding me that it probably wouldn't work if I tried dating someone who didn't share my religious beliefs.

Yet I couldn't seem to keep my mind off of her. I'd thought about little else since our kiss at the show. I could have been delusional, but the way she'd kissed me back had seemed to indicate that she was just as attracted to me as I was to her.

Good Lord, just remembering the way her little body felt against mine when I was protecting her from the pit was enough to make deliciously sinful thoughts run through my mind. Feeling her gentle curves and sharp angles every time someone pushed me into her had made me forget all the things my mother had ever taught me about being a gentleman, so when things got too intense, it was only a natural male instinct that caused me to pull her outside and kiss her the way I'd wanted to for weeks.

Did I regret it now? I wasn't sure. On one hand, I wasn't sorry because the kiss had been so damn good that it was hard to regret something that filled my desperate soul with so much pleasure and satisfaction.

But on the other hand, I'd officially stepped over the line between friendship and whatever it was we were now. With that simple, hot, amazing kiss, I'd erased the line between what I knew I should do and what I wanted to do.

And I wasn't so sure that I could go back now and forget what it felt like to let myself go and give in to the need that had been building inside me since the first time I felt that spark of attraction to her.

A couple hours later, I was still no more decided or rested than I had been when I returned to bed. With a heavy sigh, I sat up and decided to get ready for class.

At least one thing was clear to me now, and that was the fact that I was tired of living with two personalities. I would find a way to reconcile who I was with who I wanted to be, and I wasn't going to let anybody else tell me who to be ever again. Carlisle would just have to learn to love and accept me for who I would become, or...

Well, I wouldn't even consider that right now. The most important thing was the liberation of my personal life that I'd kept hidden from almost everyone outside of my small group of friends. I would no longer allow myself to hide behind long sleeves and ties.

So with that in mind, I got up and got dressed with an eye toward announcing my newfound freedom.

Tony Masen was going to poli sci class, and anybody who didn't like it could get over it.

With a sense of satisfaction and anticipation, I pulled on my Love is Red hoodie and headed for the door. I chose my music for the day, inspired by Emmett's t-shirt.

"I've got to take my life back

One chance to make it right

I've got to have my voice be heard

And bring meaning to this life."

With a grin, I drove off toward school.

BPOV

I reached school before anyone else in the class, and I sat in my seat impatiently waiting for Edward to show up. As the other students trickled in looking tired and worse for wear (it was a Saturday class, after all), I bounced in my seat and kept my eyes glued desperately to the door, silently begging for him to hurry the fuck up.

Honestly, I had no idea what would happen when he did show up. Would we act like we did before the trip, debating and snipping at each other? Or would we maintain that easy camaraderie that had been so enjoyable during the long weekend away?

Or- and this possibility ran delicious shivers up my spine to even consider- would he look at me the way he had the night of the show? Would I get to kiss him again?

God, I hoped so.

The clock was ticking away, mocking me in its deliberate reminder that class would start at any moment and Edward still had yet to walk through the door. I groaned in frustration and buried my head in my arms on top of my desk, dying inside as I waited.

I heard Professor Allan walk in with an overhead projector and greet the class. I lifted my head and mumbled a hello along with everyone else, but the empty seat next to me just taunted me with its...emptiness. Grr.

Fucking finally, I heard the door open quietly. I turned and craned my neck to see if it was Edward, but my entire body froze when I realized what I was looking at.

Oh my fucking GOD! My brain was screaming in shock and awe as I saw Edward- no, Tony walking casually down the aisle between desks until he reached his. He was wearing a black military cap low over his face and a black hoodie over his dark blue Dickies shorts. My mouth began to water as he gracefully removed his hoodie, revealing a black t-shirt that said "Dirty Deeds Done Drug Free" on the back. On the front were three big X's in bold white font.

There was a collective gasp when he slung the hoodie across the back of his seat and I saw a corner of his mouth twitch. There, for everyone to see, were all of his tattoos. His beautiful, colorful arms were bared to the class for the first time.

Once he got comfortable, he turned and looked right at me. I sat there and stared back at him, completely dumbfounded. What the hell had happened in his life in the span of a week? How could he be here now, flashing his hidden identity around?

And why the fuck did it turn me on so much?

Professor Allan, to his credit, didn't say anything to make Edward- fuck, Tony- uncomfortable. I was grateful, because I wasn't sure just where his head was at right now, what with his unexpected public display of hot awesomeness.

The professor started to lecture about a book we would be reading for class entitled The Age of American Unreason. I listened intently, trying desperately not to stare over at the fucking amazingly sexy sight next to me. It was hard, and I failed often, but fortunately the lecture was interesting enough to keep me from turning into a puddle of drool on Tony's beat up Sauconys.

Allan began passing around a handout and dropped a bit of a bomb on us. "So class, this book will be part of our next group project. Don't groan! Remember I warned you about this on the first day of school. You will be doubling up in pairs and ideally, I'd like it if each of you picks someone with a different political view from your own. The point of Jacoby's book, as you will soon find out, is that we must try to find common ground. Polarization in politics will only continue if we don't open up our ears and our minds to conflicting beliefs."

I stared at the teacher with trepidation building in my chest. I heard a shift beside me and then Tony said, "Well, I think we can safely say we've got conflicting viewpoints. Wanna be my partner?"

I turned to him with wide eyes and gulped down some of the nervousness that was nearly choking me. "Sure," I squeaked. I winced at the pathetic sound, but he smiled brilliantly and I couldn't tear my eyes away. He looked...free somehow.

It was a good look on him.

The professor told us to spread out and begin discussing our project. We headed to our (by now) customary empty classroom and began reading over the handout. I felt the nerves and the desire clawing around in my chest cavity, making me feel slightly ill.

Awkward silence filled the distance between us. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but all of the reasons why I shouldn't eclipsed the one reason I could give for why I should.

"I guess...should we talk about it?" he asked uncomfortably.

I groaned at his tone and set my paper down to shove my shaking hands into my pockets. "Um, okay."

He looked away and then back at me and sighed heavily. "I issued an ultimatum to my father before we left D.C. and now I'm living with my friend and his wife."

I let his words absorb before I recalled the incident at the show. "So that was your father at the show, I take it?"

He nodded and looked utterly miserable. I ached to reach out and touch him, but I wasn't sure if he would allow me to, so I clenched my hands and waited for a welcome sign. Instead, he grumbled and dropped his head toward the desk, slamming his forehead against it a few times. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Finally, he looked at me and tried to explain. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I have no freaking clue what I'm doing. I'm a complete mess right now. Knowing that, I shouldn't have kissed you. I should have kept my hands to myself."

To say I wasn't hurt and incredibly disappointed by his words would be a lie. I hid my wince and stared down at the desktop, willing the tears not to fall. Where was my fucking tough girl facade when I needed it, dammit? I bit my lip and braced myself. "I see," I replied quietly. Fuck, I sounded like a timid little mouse!

"I..dammit, I didn't mean it like that. I liked kissing you, Bella. I freaking loved it, but I'm just...I don't know, okay? I'm not in a good place to be dating right now, but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy every second of it," he said.

My eyes met his and I saw the sincerity there. His words stunned me and some of the aching disappointment and hurt drained out of me. "Oh," was all I could say. I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we just sat there until our time was almost up for meeting.

He heaved another frustrated sigh and picked up the handout. "Okay, well, let's talk about the project, I guess. It says we have to think of something that we can do that will cause us to see the other person's viewpoint and then find a way to promote intellectual discourse. What do you think we should do?"

I had no clue. This seemed like some sort of fated irony, and the dark humor in me found it slightly amusing. Here we were, on opposite sides of the political fence, forced to find common ground for a school project.

Not because we were attracted to each other, or because we were friends, or hell, even because we were two politically active people who should have enjoyed a lively debate, but because we had to get a grade. The ridiculousness of it was kind of hilarious in a sadly twisted way.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Oh, this is good. I have a great idea!"

I gave him a confused look. "What?"

He smiled excitedly. "Well, I was thinking about ways to change up the radio show. Now that I'm sort of coming out of the closet, so to speak, I was considering changing the format for my show to something that would hopefully appeal to more conservative 20-somethings who are like me."

"Okay," I said, still not completely following.

He stood up and began pacing, obviously deep in thought. "What if we have a show where you and I debate the issues from both sides? Then we're not only seeing each other's perspectives, but we're also doing something to promote 'intellectual discourse' or whatever he calls it!"

I sat back and considered the idea. Would I really want to be on a radio show with Edward, discussing these topics that were such a touchy subject between us? Wouldn't it turn out badly for whatever was going on between us if we had that weekly reminder of how different we were in our beliefs?

I licked my lips repeatedly while thinking about it from all angles. He stopped pacing and I saw him staring at me, watching me with an absorbed expression on his face...not unlike the expression he'd had right before he kissed me at the show. Hmmm. I licked my lips again, slowly this time, wondering if he would notice the difference. They were getting chapped, but that didn't seem to matter to him as I watched his eyes darken a bit as he licked his own bottom lip. Fuuuuuuuck.

The tension wrapped around us like a bubble as he continued to stare at me. I waited with my breath held, silently praying that he would kiss me. Just as he took one hesitant step forward, a girl from the class popped her head in and gave us a cheerful smile. "Hey, Mr. Allan wants everyone back in class now," she said.

The hypnotic spell was broken and the tension immediately dissipated, only to be replaced with slight awkwardness. He looked as if he'd just surfaced from something particularly intense, and I felt the same way. "So...what do you think?" he asked uncomfortably.

Huh? My brain wasn't working. "About what?" I finally asked.

He grinned at me, and it was much sexier than it should have been. I felt a cramp of painful pleasure shoot through my stomach. "The project? The radio show? Any of this ringing a bell?" he teased, his grin turning slightly cocky now.

Psh, bastard. "Oh! Yeah, the radio show thing. Um, yeah...I think we could at least give it a try, I guess. Will the radio station be okay with such a big change, though?"

He nodded confidently. "Oh yeah. I know those guys, and it was already suggested awhile ago that we add a liberal show to either lead into or follow mine, so this will probably work out even better. They try not to do too much talk radio on the station."

I nodded mutely and we headed back to class. On the way there, he laid a hand on my arm and smiled down at me with a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Hey, I was gonna ask...do you want to come watch us practice on Wednesday?"

I was shocked, followed instantly with a surge of fangirl joy. "Really?" I breathed, feeling and sounding like a total groupie.

He grinned and chuckled. "Really. You don't know OCS until you've seen us practice," he said mysteriously.

I stopped at the classroom door and looked up at him, wondering what his invitation meant in terms of what was going on between us. "Why are you inviting me?" I asked boldly.

Tony- for he truly couldn't be anybody other than Tony when he looked as he did right now- stepped closer and bent close so the rest of the class wouldn't overhear. "I may not know everything that I want right now, but I do know that I liked kissing you and I'd do it again if you let me."

I know, I know. You want them to get to humpin'. I hear you. I really do. Sadly, these kids need to work their shit out a bit more before the plot dips below the belt. It'd be really kind of ridiculously OOC for these characters to hump each other at this point, don'tcha think?

Still, I have an outtake for some HAAAAAAATE SECKS that I wrote for this, so I may post that later. No jumping the shark, laydiez!;)

You know the drill by now. You review, you get a preview:). I had a couple people say they didn't get their previews, so if you didn't, then I apologize profusely. Sometimes things slip through the cracks, but I try my darndest to reply to each review I get, so don't think I did it on purpose, k? I love each and every reviewer, I swear.